Pickles
by Caitiy
Summary: It isn't always all about the pickles.


Disclaimer: I don't own Naruto or the characters contained therein, they belong to Masashi Kishimoto who is kind enough to let fans write fiction. I make no profit from this nor do I intend to.

A/N: Happy White Day!

Unbeta'd – I think. I sort of remember writing this and posting it over on the KakaSaku Fanfiction Archive which I think is now defunct? I know I moved most of my one-shots here when something went sideways with the KSFA. I don't know why I didn't re-post this one – maybe I didn't like it as much at the time? Or, maybe I thought it cut a little close to a project I was working on with lulu42 at the time? I don't know. Regardless, I've gone in and made some changes anyway – for the better? Maybe?

* * *

Pickles

She growled in annoyance at the stubborn jar. She had tried _everything_ : tapping the lid against the counter, running it under hot water, and even the silly texturized rubber mat that had been designed specifically for the task – all to no avail. As she contemplated just _how_ messy shattering the jar to get at the contents would be she felt rather than heard him enter the room and slip behind her.

She sighed in defeat, raising the jar a little in askance. He chuckled and reached around her to grasp the jar in one hand and the lid in the other and twisted. All too easily for her liking the lid slid off with an audible 'pop.' Eagerly she took the jar from the man behind her with a cry of triumph and turned to face him, his arms remaining wrapped around her, one hand still holding the lid to the pickle jar.

In only a couple moments she managed to devour four or five of the small tangy pickles. She sighed a little, feeling much better after sating her latest craving. Losing interest in the pickles she looked up at the man in front of her, took in the pleased expression on his bare face and frowned.

"This is _your_ fault you know."

"What? The fact that you wanted pickles or the fact that you couldn't open the jar?" he asked with a cheeky grin.

She growled at him in annoyance. "Both! _And_ , I didn't _want_ the pickles I _needed_ them. There's a _big_ difference."

"Oh, like you _needed_ those anchovies last Sunday?" he asked with an eyebrow raised in barely suppressed amusement.

"Yes!" she exclaimed, surprised that he could even question the necessity of anchovies on that particular Sunday.

"And, the let me see… bologna and cream cheese two weeks ago, and French fries with cheese curds and gravy the week before that…" he trailed off remembering how difficult it had been to find that last one at three in the morning on a Tuesday. Luckily enough, he happened to know where the owner of a small local diner lived and had been able to intimidate the man into opening his kitchen long enough to make the strange food for the woman in his arms.

"Exactly!" she exclaimed, almost rolling her eyes at his inability to understand what she thought of as simple facts, "it's _all_ your fault!"

"Now, how exactly does that work again?" he mused aloud, almost as if to himself as he glanced up at the ceiling as if the smooth white surface might reveal to him his answer. After a moment he glanced down at the woman in his arms and carefully suppressed his enjoyment at the situation – there was only so far he could push her before she lashed out at him physically – before continuing, "As far as I know it takes _two_ to tango…"

She narrowed her eyes, her frown which had faded while he was agreeing with her returned, Sakura's legendary temper beginning to show signs of manifesting. " _You're_ the one who couldn't keep it to himself for _two_ _lousy_ _days_!"

"Hmm… I seem to remember 'keeping it to myself' for three whole months before that…" he cocked his head to the side to show some confusion, "how was _I_ supposed to know you had let the jutsu lapse while I was away?"

Her frown deepened and her eyes narrowed even further. "No reason to keep it current if _you_ weren't around." She shook her head a little in irritation, more with herself than with the man in front of her, before shooting back the first thing that occurred to her. "Unless, you think there is a reason I should be keeping it active while you're out on assignment?" she asked, with an eyebrow raised in mock challenge.

Hastily, he backpedaled, not liking the idea of Sakura actually needing that particular jutsu while he wasn't in the village. "Now, now, I didn't say that exactly…" he trailed off, not sure where to go with his statement so as not to offend the prickly kunoichi before him.

"I didn't think so." She sighed, trying to let go of some of her irritation. "Besides, I had an appointment to have it redone the day before you were _supposed_ to return…" she pointed at him accusingly, pickle juice sloshing over the sides of the all but forgotten open pickle jar, "but _you_ were _early_!"

He shrugged unapologetically. "I suppose you could say that I had something that made coming home early worth the extra effort..."

Her expression softened a little, he didn't often express himself to her in words. Usually he allowed his actions to do the speaking for him.

" _And_ I don't seem to remember you either resisting or complaining at the time…" he couldn't stop himself from adding with a chuckle, wiping the soft smile right from her lips.

" _I'm_ not the one renowned throughout the shinobi world for my self-control..." she retorted with a snort. "Besides," she felt her cheeks flush a little as she subconsciously clutched the open and forgotten pickle jar to her chest, "how _could_ I when you were so suddenly home and doing such wonderful things to me…" she sighed at the memory. He was always a bit over ardent in his affection upon returning from a mission no matter how long or short, dangerous or mundane – but there must have been something that had happened on that mission for him to come back in such a particularly passionate mood.

He smirked to himself, confident that she wouldn't notice it in her current state. She was so very clearly remembering the evening that had led to their present situation. Not that he could blame her; he had thoroughly enjoyed that particular evening as well and certainly had no regrets.

After a moment lost in thought at the memory she felt his arms tighten around her as he slowly pulled her closer. Suddenly her annoyance at the man who had gotten her into her current predicament returned and she shot him a dirty look as she tried to pull away from the all too adept shinobi, spilling a little more of the pickle juice on the floor.

He chuckled at her halfhearted efforts and tightened his grip on her; preventing her from slipping away from him so he could lean down and lightly brush his lips against hers. He smiled at her surprised expression. "If you're looking for an apology, you're not going to get one.

His arms tightened around her a little more, almost possessively, and she squeaked a couple inaudible syllables in surprise before finally managing to yelp, "What?" Confusion was clearly setting in, temporarily displacing the annoyance

He kissed the tip of her nose irritating her once again. "I'm not going to apologize for something I'm not sorry about." He flashed his trademark grin which never failed to make her heart skip a beat when he wasn't wearing his mask.

Her surprise turned to speculation and she shoved the partially empty pickle jar at the older man, splashing him with some of the remaining pickle juice. "You think you can prove that?"

He removed an arm to accept the pickle jar from her and in doing so allowed her to slip from his grasp and disappear into the other room.

Looking down at the open jar in his hand he smiled to himself and resealed it as tightly as he possibly could – too tight for her to ever be able to open on her own – and retuned it to the refrigerator. Taking a moment, he grabbed a towel and wiped up the puddle of pickle juice from the floor. Despite her annoyance at him and the fact that her second trimester had temporarily robbed her of her ability to manipulate chakra, he was thoroughly enjoying his kunoichi's pregnancy.

With the pickle juice taken care of, he slowly ambled from the kitchen with thoughts of proving once again how he felt for the woman who would have his child in a couple of months. He found her insecurities about her pregnant appearance, parts of which he was very much enjoying, to be just too adorable and had no qualms about reassuring her however often she asked. Or, whenever he thought that she just plain seemed to need it. Hence, the jar of pickles in the fridge with the lid screwed on almost impossibly tight. When next she craved them, he'd be there to do this all over again – as many times as necessary.


End file.
